


How The Mighty Have Fallen (And Just Keep Falling)

by LittleLynn



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bardlings - Freeform, Fluff, Ice Skating AU, Legolas is a trouble maker, M/M, Reunions, rivals au, you can’t land a quad at forty thrandy I’m sorry but you just cant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 05:31:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11350881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLynn/pseuds/LittleLynn
Summary: Sometimes Bard stayed at the rink after everyone else had left and skated as long as his muscles could stand. He could almost hear the crowds roaring, see Thranduil smiling at the challenge, feel his muscles screaming. God he missed it. Fourteen years now, since his last competition, since he had vanished from professional figure skating. Sometimes commentators would still bring up his mysterious departure, Bard only wondered if Thranduil still thought of him too. He couldn’t go back now though, he was far too old to compete, had no excuse to suddenly show up after so many years away from the circuit.Or at least he didn’t until a young blonde boy with a fierce determination to beat the infamous Thranduil Oropherion's records walked through the doors to his ice rink and asked Bard to be his coach.





	How The Mighty Have Fallen (And Just Keep Falling)

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been blessed with beautiful art from the incredibly talented [Ju](http://miryokae.tumblr.com/) and [Iza](http://piyo-13.tumblr.com//) who are amazing and deserve your love far more than I do.
> 
> We may be pretty late but this is our contribution to the minibang and we hope you enjoy it <3 it's also 2,995 words too long but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Also pls note: I am an absolute tit and have broken my hand (my right hand, the one that knows how to be a hand, naturally) and therefore I have been unable to edit this fic (typing this is taking me an a g e because i can only use my left ;_;). It does need an edit, so please be gentle, I plan to edit when I am mended <3

 

 (Art by Ju)

 

Thranduil had never been as happy as he was standing on the second-place podium for the first time in five years. Five years of Words, Grand Prix’s, Nationals and Olympics, five years of uninterrupted, unchallenged gold medals, and finally, _finally_ , he was on the second-place podium, French flag hanging on the left, opposed to in the centre.

His smile shone bright and true into the camera’s in front of him, and he knew that the entire world wouldn’t understand that it was genuine. That the five time Wold Champion, the unrivalled master of figure skating, was happy about being in second place.

And he was, he really was.

His skate had been near-perfect, as it always was. He landed every jump and executed every spin and step with confidence and precision and he had lost. He had lost to Bard Bowman, a Canadian skater relatively new to the seniors who had, up until then, not presented any more of a threat than the other skaters. In the past Bard had had trouble landing his jumps in competition and lost too many points either because he had lower the difficulty in his programmes to complete them well, or had missed the landing on enough to knock his score back.

Not anymore, it seemed. Bard had landed every jump he had thrown and he had thrown more in the second half of his programme than Thranduil possibly could have. And when he came off the ice he had winked at Thranduil, cheeky and challenging and Thranduil had soared.

For the first time in five years someone could challenge him and he felt the life returning to his skating, already pulling together his programmes for next season in his head, upping the difficulty, pushing himself for the first time in years, because he _needed_ to again.

“Thranduil! How do you feel about losing the gold for the first time in five years?” A reporter asked, thrusting his microphone at him as he walked past the press after the ceremony.

“Exhilarated.” Thranduil smiled and the reporter looked confused. Thranduil didn’t give him the chance to ask another, breezing off past the press, smirking to himself as he saw Bard trying to fend off the camera-clad vultures, not as well versed as Thranduil in avoiding them and too polite to just ignore them.

Thranduil trailed a finger along Bard’s strong shoulders as he walked past, Bard whipping around to see who is was and looking a little startled in the face of Thranduil’s rapturous smile.

“I’m going to destroy you at Worlds.” He said, voice sugary sweet and eyes sparkling. Bard’s demeanour changed instantly, surprise turning to a playful grin.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” Bard grinned and Thranduil laughed as he left Bard behind to the press, savouring the wink Bard threw him as he went.    

He won Worlds by one single point, but he had to set a new world record to do so, and Bard laughed and vowed to kick his ass next time the met in competition. It went on for two years, Thranduil had never enjoyed skating more, certainly not when he had been winning everything with ease, Bard and the challenge and flirting that he brought with him were better than any gold medal. He kept Thranduil on his toes and no one could predict with any certainty which one of them would walk away with the gold at any given competition, but it was always one of them.

Every time Bard winked at him, flirted with him, called him beautiful, complimented his skating and beat him and challenged him over and over and over again Thranduil fell a little more in love.

He had always wondered if Bard felt it to. The thing between them that Thranduil felt so viscerally, treading the line precariously between rivalry and something very different. Something that Thranduil wanted them to fall over the ledge into together.

He wondered if he asked, what Bard might say; Thranduil only had a couple of years left until he had to retire at most. Bard was younger than him, would have maybe five years left if he didn’t get injured. So Thranduil wondered, wondered what Bard would say if Thranduil asked for something, asked that when the chaos of competitive skating was over for the both of them, that they might try to have something, to be something together.

The Grand Prix had just finished, Bard had broken the free skate world record – Thranduil’s record – and Thranduil had broken the short programme record – Bard’s record – and scraped to victory by the skin of his teeth, gasping and smiling through the ache in his muscles and sweat on his face, only just catching himself as the adrenalin and endorphins made him want to kiss Bard, only to find himself swept into a kiss by him anyway. Thranduil grinned into it as Bard kissed him, just barely out of sight of reporters and cameras. It was only three months until they would meet again at Worlds, Thranduil spending it training and building up the courage to ask Bard if he felt it too, if he wanted to be more than just competitors.

But Worlds came around again and Bard never showed up, nor to his country’s nationals, nor the Grand Prix the next year. Nor the next. And Thranduil supposed that was as much of an answer to that question as anything.

 

Bard smiled as he ushered his slip-sliding class of little’uns carefully off the ice, returning them to parents, who thanked him and bid their farewells before departing. Bard pulled off his own skates, returning to normal shoes as it would be a few hours before he was needed on the ice again, though part of him longed to always be there, lamented privately for a dream he accomplished but didn’t quite see through.

Sometimes he stayed long after everyone else had left and skated as long as his muscles could stand, nothing compared to what they used to be able to do without the gruelling training regimen. He could almost hear the crowds roaring, see Thranduil smiling, feel his muscles screaming. God he missed it. Fourteen years now, since his last competition, since that horrible day that changed everything.

Thankfully, not many of the people who came to the rink knew who he was, or who he had been. The kids enthused about skating too young to know him, the parents mostly not knowing a thing about the sport until their child started doing it. Occasionally someone would recognise him and ask for an autograph, or one of his students would find out and look at him with renewed awe in their eyes, but it was rare enough.

“Everything alright back here?” Bard asked Sigrid, who looked up from the accounts she was going over.

“Yeah, no risk of debt or crippling financial failure anytime soon.” She smiled at him. She and Bain were both helping out at the rink in their Spring Holiday. The three of them skated a little, but had never loved it nor had the affinity for it like Bard did, wanting to follow their own paths, paths which Bard was proud of and happy to help them down.

Bard couldn’t believe she would be graduating this year, twenty-one already, and Bain would be going. It simultaneously felt like just yesterday when he’d held her for the first time and a million years ago. So much had changed.

He would never forget that day, his phone ringing Silver medal still hanging around his neck and the feeling of spinning Thranduil around in a congratulatory and too friendly hug fresh in his mind. Answering the phone, being told his sister and brother-in-law had been in a car accident, Michael already dead, Emily in critical condition. Rushing onto the first flight he could and going home, shaking as he sped to the hospital. He got there in time to say goodbye, Bard supposed that was something at least. His big sister, his biggest supporter, best friend, snatched away.

He had told her it would be okay even though none of it was. She had asked him to look after her children even though they both knew she hadn’t needed to ask.

At twenty-one he had hung up his skates to become the sole parent to three orphaned children. Tilda hadn’t yet turned one, she had cried for her parents for weeks. Bain had been four and hadn’t understood, had been angry with Bard and confused at the world and asked for his parents. Sigrid had been seven and she had understood and it was a long time before Bard had seen her smile again.

He’d ignored all the reports of his supposed vanishing act from the world of skating, made sure his lawyer was ready to sue anyone who released his personal information about their tragedy to the press. It was before social media, it had been fairly easy to slip away, figure skaters aren’t that famous in the grand scheme of things after all, no matter how successful they were.

He’d had no idea what he was doing, but somehow they had made it through and now here they were.

He’d bought an ice rink with his winnings and ran it well enough (or got lucky enough) that it got enough business to support them all well. He loved The Frozen Lake ice rink, it was his and he cared for it, but it made him nostalgic for the past he had lost. But Tilda, Sigrid and Bain had needed a parent, and Bard could never have been what they needed if he continued his constant training and travelling. There had only been one choice and though he missed skating, it hadn’t been a hard one.

“Hello?” A tentative young voice with a French accent called from the desk and Bard came out of the backroom to find a little blonde boy standing at the desk.

“Hi,” Bard smiled, “what can I do for you?” The boy squinted at him, as if trying to puzzle something out.

“I just wanted to ask if it is okay for me to practice jumps and spins here?” He asked, eyeing Bard closely.

“You can do them safely?” Bard asked.

“Of course. I could skate almost before I could walk.” He replied a little haughtily and for a searing moment the boy reminded him almost impossibly of Thranduil.

“Then you can while it is quiet, but when the ice gets busy again it won’t be safe.” Bard said and the boy nodded in understanding. “And don’t push yourself, okay? I will trust you if you say you know how, but I don’t see your coach here, so don’t try anything new, okay?” Bard continued, hoping that the kid hadn’t shown up to a new rink because he was getting frustrated at his coach for not letting him do triples yet.

Bard had done that once, broke his wrist in the process.

“I won’t.” The boy replied, heading to the benches and pulling out a pair of pristine white skates. Bard was curious, that was for sure. Some of the kids he taught were good, a couple nationally ranked – not high enough to go further, but an impressive feat nonetheless. Usually when they wanted to go further and their parents were supportive, Bard helped them to find a coach who could take them further.

But he had a feeling about this boy, something telling him he was going to want to watch his skating. Of course that might just be the blonde hair, fine features and French accent reminding him of another skater.

As the boy took to the ice, Bard walked to the edge of the rink and watched, and he was glad he did. It seemed that hair and accent were not the only thing the boy shared with the legendary figure skating champion. He threw every double with confidence, his spins tight and fast, his foot work impeccable. He even landed a triple, though Bard winced while he did so, letting out a relieved breath when he landed it safely.

People arrived to go onto the ice, though many gathered around the edge for a while to watch the boy. Eventually though they wanted to skate themselves and the ice got too busy for the boy to continue safely, and he skated over to where Bard waited on the other side of the barrier.

“You’re Bard Bowman.” He said simply, Bard a little taken aback, few kids his age would have any idea who he was. Thranduil was the name they all knew, Bard a footnote almost more well known for his sudden disappearance than his skating.

“And you are very good.” Bard replied. “What’s your name?”

“Legolas.” He answered, not offering a surname. “Will you coach me for my junior debut?” He asked, cutting straight to the chase.

“What?” Bard asked, more out of surprise than confusion.

“I’ll be thirteen by the time the next Junior Grand Prix begins, I want to compete.” He explained, Bard knew he would do well.

“The Grand Prix begins in only five months, that’s not really enough time.”

“I’ve already been trained, I even have my programmes ready. I’m ready, I just need a coach to help me be perfect and take me there, and then to train me for future seasons.”

“You must already have a coach then?”

“I would rather have you coach me, you’re Bard Bowman, after all.”

“And what’s so special about that?” Bard laughed, never having encountered someone who thought him so amazing before.

“You beat Thranduil Oropherion, the only one who did.”

“Aye, but I don’t think you need to worry about beating him anymore.” Bard replied, knowing Thranduil had been only a few years off retiring back when he was also skating.

“I want to beat his records though.” Legolas replied defiantly, it made Bard smile.

“A bold goal, I think you could do it though, if you are willing to give it everything you have. You’ve got to be serious about it. But what of my record?” Bard grinned, knowing he and Thranduil still held the records for the free skate and short programme.

“Collateral damage?” The boy grinned and Bard laughed again, the kid really did remind him of Thranduil.

Bard’s laughter trailed off as he thought about the realities of becoming an international coach ran through his mind. He knew Thranduil coached the French seniors, the thought of seeing him again after so many years was certainly an enticing one. He regretting not being able to explain or bid Thranduil good luck or farewell, regretted more not being able to stay long enough to see if their friendship might evolve into something more. He wanted to do it, but didn’t know if he’d be able to, Tilda was still in school after all.

“I want to help you, but I don’t know if I can. I’ve got to run this place, my youngest is still in school, the travel is all costly. I’m sorry.”

“I can pay you. Well, my family can. They’ll pay you well, I swear.” Legolas answered quickly, and Bard hadn’t actually considered that Legolas would be able to pay him, surprised to find that he would have tried to do it for free, though it likely would have proved itself impossible. But there was still Tilda and the others to think about, Legolas could train here most of the year, but there were a lot of competitions all around the globe they would need to attend.

“I promise you I will think about it and let you know by the end of the week.” Bard promised and Legolas nodded once, apparently satisfied with that answer for now.

At home that evening Bard told the kids about Legolas and his request for Bard to coach him in his junior debut and to continue after. He explained that while he would be here most of the time it would force him to leave a lot during competition times and he wouldn’t agree to it if any of them were uncomfortable with the idea.

“Da, you gave up everything for us when we were little. Because we needed you to, because we needed you to be with us all the time.” Sigrid started. “You gave up skating for us back then, and we know you miss it.”

“I – you don’t have to feel bad about that darlin’. I’d chose you three over that every time, no question and no contest.”

“We know that da, that’s not what she means.” Bain said, turning his face up from his phone.

“She means that we’ll always need you da, but we don’t need you to give everything up anymore. So if you want to do it, you should do it.” Tilda broke in, smiling at Bard. “We want you to.”

“But what about when I’m away? You’re only fifteen Til.”

“I’ll be here, I’ll have graduated by the time you have to go away to any competitions, we’ll be fine.” Sigrid answered, and it was a good answer.

Bard told Legolas the next day when he turned up at the rink that he would coach him. The boy beamed at him and wanted to get started that very day, to which Bard had no objections.

“I do however need your surname and to meet your parents, make sure this is all okay.” Bard pointed out, Legolas had been very cryptic about both his surname and his parents whenever Bard asked.

“…Greenleaf. And I’m staying with some close family friends. My dad is back in France.”

“Doesn’t he want you home?” Bard asked, a little concerned.

“Yes. But he’s agreed to let me stay out here to train, he knows how important it is to me.”

“Okay, well I still need to meet whoever is looking after you, and get proof that your dad is okay with it.”

“Alright.” Legolas agreed and a few days later Bard met Elrond Peredhil who’s eyes smiled as if sharing in a private joke that Bard wasn’t privy too.

Bard trained Legolas and the boy was good, almost obnoxiously good. He worked hard and did as instructed and made music with his movements and Bard could already see his and Thranduil’s records becoming a distant memory. Legolas occasionally returned to France for a few weeks, but always promised to keep up his training and Bard could always tell when he returned that he kept to his word.

“It’s time to enter you for the Junior Grand Prix, if you still want to debut this year.” Bard said one morning, watching Legolas carefully.

“Of course I want to, why wouldn’t I want to?”

“Because if you debut this year you will possibly make the final. But if you wait and train for another year? You’ll win. Do you know who the only other skater to win in their debut year is?”

“Thranduil.” Legolas said eyes gleaming and agreeing to wait another year, to train hard another year, to master all his triples and tighten up his footwork until he could make a mark on the skating world that hadn’t been seen since Thranduil himself.

Bard had no idea why Legolas was so very driven to beat Thranduil’s legend, but it undeniably gave fire to his skating. Bard had learned early on not to compared Legolas to Thranduil, what should have been the ultimate compliment in the skating world only served to make Legolas grumpy.

So they waited another year and by the time it rolled around Bard knew that he had made the right call. Legolas was too young to throw quads, something which the older competitors in his category could safely do. But Bard knew he didn’t need it, his performances were flawless and he had more jumps in his second half than any other competitor, pushing his own difficulty up to match them.

Bard was surprised to see Legolas nervous when they were on the plane to the final, Legolas smashing through his qualifiers without a single sign of nerves.

“Are you okay?” Bard asked carefully, Legolas was a quiet boy and often preferred to work through his thoughts alone.

“My father is going to be here.” He said, chewing his lip. Bard had been annoyed to find that Legolas’ elusive father hadn’t attended his qualifying competitions, until Legolas had proven by showing him the text messages that he only didn’t attend because Legolas had banned him from doing so, wanting his father to see him skate professionally for the first time in a world final. Bard couldn’t say he understood it completely, but he respected Legolas’ choice.

“You’re nervous about impressing him?” Bard asked, he had assumed that Legolas’ wish that his father not see him skate until a world final had something to do with wanting to impress him.

“Not exactly.” He muttered but Bard didn’t press him for more, Legolas usually came to him when he was ready.

They arrived in France and Bard had half expected Legolas to relax at being back on his home turf, but he only seemed to tense up further the closer and closer they got to the hotel and arena. Eventually Bard decided to put it down to Legolas having nerves over his first ever world final, if anything warranted nerves, this was it.

They had arrived a few days before the competition started, as did most of the competitors, and Legolas practiced hard every day and watched the seniors practicing with a mixture of admiration and steely resolve, waiting for his chance to defeat them all.

Legolas shifted his weight from foot to foot as he restlessly on his skates as they waited for his name to be called.

“Bard?”

“Yes?”

“Um, I’m sorry.”

“What on earth for?” Bard asked confused, he couldn’t be more proud of Legolas and how far he had come.

“Well, you’re about to find something out, and, just, sorry I guess. For not telling you.” He said and before Bard could ask for clarification Legolas’ name was called.

Bard found his explanation when some of the French senior team came over to the where he was standing to watch Legolas.

“Oh my god! It’s true!” One of the girls squealed, and it took until a hand was placed on Bard’s arm for him to even realise she was talking to him.

“Excuse me?”

“Legolas found you! I mean we’d heard the rumours but still!”

“No wonder he’s been keeping his new coach a secret.” One of the young men giggled.

“Well I wouldn’t say we’ve actively been keeping it a secret.” Bard protested a little, Legolas was a private boy and Bard didn’t much like the thought of his own privacy being invaded after so many years of peace, but still, he wouldn’t say they’d been particularly covert.

Then again, Legolas could seem a little worried about people finding out. Bard had always wondered why, but never pushed.

“Please, I’ve never seen Legolas so tight lipped over anything.”

“I’m sure he just wanted to keep you and your coaching all to himself.” One of the girls beamed at him.

“Oh as if, I think we all know _why_ he kept it a secret. Thranduil is going to _slaughter_ him.” One of the girls snorted, and Bard grimaced, he knew Thranduil coached the French seniors, it was common knowledge, he had hoped he wasn’t too angry about one of them coming to Bard instead.

“He’s that mad one of the French skaters came to me?”

“I think it’s more of a case of _which_ skater came to you. And the fact he didn’t tell him who he’d found.” She explained, speaking as if Bard was being particularly dim. Bard supposed Thranduil might be annoyed as Legolas clearly showed such promise, and tried not to read into why his identity mattered at all. That was a rabbit hole Bard had been trying not to run down for years.

“He’s angry I took the skater with most promise? But you all do well. Besides, Legolas came to me.” Bard put up a token defence, he had hoped that he wouldn’t be faced with Thranduil’s wrath when they finally saw each other again.

The skaters blinked at him for a few seconds, Bard could hear Legolas skating a few circles around the ice, he’d be taking up his starting pose soon.

“Oh my _god_ . You don’t know!” She yelled, loud enough for them to draw a few heads. The other French skaters surrounding him looked at him in disbelief while she just dissolved into laughter. “Oh god this is _too_ good.”

“What don’t I know?” Bard asked, looking out to Legolas who was getting ready to start, wondering what on earth it was that he didn’t know.

The skater was too busy wheezing with laughter to answer his question.

“Um, Legolas is Thranduil’s son?” One of the others took pity on him, looking at Bard like he was the biggest simpleton in the entire world.

“What!” Bard shouted, spinning around and grabbing the edge of the rink and staring at Legolas in disbelief.

Only the disbelief was soon turned on himself for being so stupid. It wasn’t like they didn’t look like each other.

Little shit.

Bard gaped open mouthed as all of the similarities between the two suddenly didn’t seem so coincidental.

Legolas started his skate and Bard’s eyes caught on the man stood on the opposite side of the rink, with beautiful silver hair, immaculate posture and piercing blue eyes that were fixed on Bard and looking absolutely _murderous_.

Fuck.

Not exactly how he had imagined their reunion might go.

Legolas’ executed his short programme flawlessly, placing first in the rankings so far but falling just short of breaking the junior record – another one of Thranduil’s, but still managed to skate off the ice looking more than a little sheepish as he headed over to Bard.

“I’m sorry!” Legolas apologised before Bard could even open his mouth, probably a good thing as he had absolutely no idea what he was going to say.

“I’m mostly confused.”

“I was worried you wouldn’t agree to be my coach if I told you, and I _knew_ dad wouldn’t have let me stay if he’d known who my new coach was.” Legolas got his excuses in quick, biting on his lower lip in a nervous gesture Bard had never seen from him before.

“Not good excuses Legolas, you lied to me about your surname and you lied to your father. Wait, why wouldn’t he have let you?” Bard finished, a little confused, it had been a long time, but he and Thranduil had been friends at least, hadn’t they?

“Only half a lie, my Mother’s surname was Greenleaf.” Legolas said half-heartedly, knowing it wasn’t an excuse. “And, um, can’t you work that out?” He added, a little awkwardly.

“But we were friends, I don’t understand.”

“Uh, Bard, you vanished. Quite spectacularly and without a word.”

“I know but that had nothing to do with Thranduil, he was the one thing I _missed_.”

“You didn’t think about maybe telling him that?” Legolas asked and Bard grimaced, he knew he should have contacted him really, but they had only ever seen each other at competitions and Bard hadn’t really known if they were friends or just friendly competitors regardless of his own feelings and by the time he sorted himself out enough to know he’d made a mistake it felt like too much time had passed. “Well, maybe he’s not still _mad_ mad at you, but you’ve always been a sore spot.”

“I don’t – ”

“You broke his heart Bard. You vanished and didn’t call. I mean, he doesn’t really talk about this stuff to anyone let alone me, but Elrond told me that you broke his heart when I asked him why my dad was so angsty whenever someone mentioned you.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah.”

“If it’s any consolation I think I broke my own heart too.” Bard offered, and it was true, but he’d been so destroyed about his sister that there really hadn’t been any left to be heartbroken over what ifs. Legolas just gave him a look that said very clearly ‘I’m probably not the one you should be saying that to’. “I should go speak to him.”

“Yeah. He’s probably dodging reporters asking him how he feels about your reappearance coaching me.” Legolas said surprisingly dryly for someone of his age, before wandering off to go find some of his old team mates.

“Right.” Bard said to himself, steeling himself as he went off to find Thranduil, doing his best to dodge reporters too, though Thranduil had always been better at it than him. Bard remembered something he should probably have forgotten by now, that Thranduil had always gone down to the deep corridors  right at the back of the rinks when he’d needed to escape everyone for a bit.

And sure enough, that was where he found him, head leant back against the wall, eyes shut and just as beautiful as when Bard last saw him.

“I’m sorry.” Bard said, Thranduil didn’t startle, never had been one to startle, just slowly opened his eyes.

“It was clear from your expression that this is just as much a surprise to you as it is to me. Legolas is at fault here.” Thranduil said, not looking at Bard, his words measured, tired almost, it made Bard feel incredibly guilty.

“I’m not talking about that.”

“What then?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t call. I should have. You deserved an explanation at least.”

“It was strange, to realise I had fallen for someone who didn’t even find me worthy of a goodbye.” Thranduil said, and Bard couldn’t help his wince.

“That’s not true. I, I felt the same Thran, but. Do you remember the Grand Prix final? The last one I skated at?”

“As if I could forget.” Thranduil smiled faintly.

“Yeah, well. When I got back to my hotel that evening, damn I was almost about to just call you, to say to hell with it and ask you out to dinner, to wine and dine you like you deserve to be.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“I got a phone call from a hospital back home, my sister and her husband had been in a car accident. He was already gone, she was in critical condition.” Bard took a shaky breath, even this many years later, it was impossibly difficult to talk about. “I got there just in time to say goodbye to her. Her kids – my kids now – they needed me and I needed them, all the time. I’m sorry I never called, never told you why I had disappeared, you deserved better. But there was just so much to deal with and by the time I felt like I was in any kind of place to call you, by the time I realised just how much I missed you, too much time had passed, and I didn’t know if you’d even want to hear from me anymore.”

A long silence stretched out between them, people rarely knew what to say, Bard understood. When Thranduil finally spoke, it wasn’t what he expected.

“I’m sorry. If I had known, I never would have made it about me.” Thranduil said quietly, head bowed, guilt covering his face.

“You didn’t know.” Bard replied simply, not blaming Thranduil for the conclusions he had drawn with the scant information available to him.

Another silence drew out between them.

“A couple of years after you left I met a woman. She was beautiful in every way. Made me forget about you, forget about how empty I had felt since leaving the ice. I fell in love with her quickly, easily, completely. We got married quickly, quick enough that there were raised eyebrows and no small amount of judgement, but we didn’t care, we knew it was forever. I’d stepped out of the spotlight, away from the ice after my retirement, I didn’t need it, didn’t miss it so terribly when I had her, and we wanted some quiet. She fell pregnant soon after we married, I still remember her telling me, it was the happiest day of my life.” Thranduil took a steadying breath, steeling himself at what came next, Bard wanted to reach out to him, to comfort him, but he didn’t know if it would be welcome.

“There were complications during the delivery, she died and my world turned to ash. I am sure that Legolas is the only thing that kept me alive at that time. And it didn’t get better, but slowly I found a way to live with what happened, I made room for the pain that would never really go away. And other things came back to me too, I missed skating and it was something I could fix, so I started to coach. I missed you, and it made me bitter, though it is clear now that you do not deserve that. So I am sorry.”

Bard gave Thranduil a weak smile. “Life’s really done a number on us, hasn’t it?” His voice was rough with emotions, for him, for Thranduil, for them together and them apart.

Another silence, they had never had so many between them. Bard wondered if they could find something in the ashes of what used to have been, beneath everything they had been through.

“What happens next?” Bard asked.

“I don’t know.”

“For what it’s worth, I still miss you.”

Thranduil looked like he wanted to say something, Bard had a hundred things he wanted to say. Things like, if I asked you now, would you still be interested in that dinner. But the air was too heavy after their conversation, and it didn’t seem right to say any of those things, so Bard stayed quiet instead.

Bard would have been content to stand there with Thranduil for hours, until one of them felt able to speak again, to say something, to give some kind of resolution. It was a comfortable silence, one surprisingly so given how much time had passed between them. Eventually though the faint sounds of the announcer could be heard signalling half an hour till the next warm up began and Thranduil had to leave to see to his students.

The day after next Legolas skated his Free program and won the junior competition, just as Bard had predicted he would. Thranduil joined him and Legolas in the Kiss and Cry, looking proud enough to burst, he found Bard’s hand behind Legolas and gave it a squeeze and Bard couldn’t get the smile off his face for the rest of the day.

“You’ve caused quite a stir by reappearing so suddenly, and coaching the son of your biggest rival!” One reporter said during one of Legolas’ interviews, thrusting their microphone at Bard instead. Bard wondered what the question in that statement he was supposed to answer was, Thranduil was just smirking at him like he always did when Bard attempted to deal with the press.  

“Yeah, it wasn’t planned but here I am now I guess.” Bard answered awkwardly, he’d always been awkward in interviews.

“Any comment on your sudden departure all those years ago?” Another reporter pried.

“No, that is private and personal.” Bard answered more firmly.

“You can’t just reappear dramatically without finally telling us all why you vanished.” Another reporter pressed, trying his best to sound good natured and jovial, though Bard rankled anyway.

“He has said it is private, only an excessively rude and uncaring individual would pry further.” Thranduil cut in, voice authoritive and Bard saw the reporters almost physically slink back, he almost felt a little bad for them.

“The real question here of course, that never really got answered, is which one of you was the best! Bard you left the scene when you were winning and losing to each other equally _and_ when you both broke each other’s world records.” Another reporter easily changed the line of questioning.

“Thranduil has more medals.”

“Only because I skated for longer, and relatively unrivalled for much of it.” Thranduil pointed out.

“Oh, so are you finally admitting that I was the best?” Bard teased, raising an eyebrow and revelling in the smirk Thranduil shot back at him, one he remembered from fifteen years ago.

“I can’t admit to something that isn’t true.” Thranduil’s eyes sparkled and all of a sudden it felt like no time at all had passed between them.

“Well I guess we’ll never know.” A reporter laughed, but Bard barely heard them, still sharing a private look with Thranduil.

The competition ended and Bard flew back to Canada, Legolas going home with Thranduil for a week before he would return to training with Bard, he deserved the respite.

A week later Bard got a text from Legolas telling him he was back and already at the rink. Bard frowned at the message as it was late here which meant on French time it would be _really_ late, but Bard shrugged, he’d given him a key to the rink, and Legolas always had had strange habits. If he wanted to have a quick session as soon as he returned them Bard wouldn’t begrudge him.

Bard smiled when he entered his ice rink and saw a familiar figure on the ice.

“You know, your son is going to give me serious trust issues.” Bard called out, Thranduil turning on the ice and skating towards him, smile on his face. “What are you doing here? Not that I’m not delighted to see you of course.”

“Of course.” Thranduil kept smiling, his hair pulled back into a flowing ponytail, Bard was glad he’d never cut his hair. “Well, I decided we have to end this once and for all.”

“What?” Bard asked, colour draining from his face, worried that Thranduil was about to tell him not to call and not to coach Legolas anymore.

“Yes, the question of which of us is truly better. I demand a showdown, right here right now.” He smirked, clearly proud of himself for giving Bard a miniature heart-attack with his previous phrasing.

“You can’t be serious.” Bard replied. “We’re so out of shape.”

“Speak for yourself.” Thranduil sniffed haughtily and yeah, okay, they had both kept themselves in shape. That much was obvious. But that was also definitely not what Bard had meant. Being physically fit and being in shape of competitive figure skating shape were two very different things. Bard may have stayed on the ice somewhat but as soon as he wasn’t competitive anymore the number of jumps and spins he ever attempted had decreased quickly to almost none to save whatever was left of his knees and ankles for later life. And he knew Thranduil must have done the same, it was only sensible.

“I don’t think I’ve jumped more than a double in the past year.” Bard said and he could still read Thranduil, even after all these years, and he knew it was true for him as well. In all honesty, even doing doubles with any frequency at their age was dangerous.

“Well, if you’d simply rather admit that I am the superior skater…” Thranduil trailed off, goading, teasing Bard into agreeing to this ridiculous idea. And in any other circumstance Bard would never allow himself to be affected by it, but this was Thranduil, and what he was really asking was for Bard to skate with him one more time, and Bard was never going to be able to say no to that.

“Never.” Bard winked, pulling his skates out of his bag and strapping them onto his feet.

“Music?” Thranduil asked and Bard glided over to the speakers he had set up rinkside when Legolas started training with him. He grinned to himself as he made a short playlist of songs they had both used for past routines.

“This is going to go so badly.” Bard commented as the music began and they both started skating.

“Speak for yourself.” Thranduil replied, but he was smiling happily.

“We don’t have routines.” Bard pointed out, and it was hardly like he remembered any of his old ones well enough to do them, let alone still had the ability to actually pull them off.

“This is a challenge, not a competition.” Thranduil pointed out as they skated perfectly in sync in a wide circle around the rink. “I bet I can still execute a combination spin better than you.”

“My spins were already better than yours.” Bard protested, and it was true, Thranduil’s jumps were a thing of legend, flawless, impossibly difficult and almost never fumbled. But Bard’s spins had always been better, faster, tighter, more complex.

“Prove it.” Thranduil dared, eyes sparkling as he retreated safely out of the way to the side of the rink.

Bard had never been good at turning down Thranduil. He skated around, getting a feel for the music playing and picking up speed before shutting his eyes and _praying_ as the threw himself into Y-spin - flying sit-spin combination. He felt about ready to throw up but supremely victorious when he came out of it without landing on his ass.

“Ha!” He yelled in triumph, grinning smugly at Thranduil as he skated over to him.

“Much slower than your spins used to be.”

“Well that is hardly surprising now is it.” Bard rolled his eyes. “Go on, your turn, try to top that.”

And Thranduil did try, skating out into a camel spin sit spin combination, but promptly slipping out of the sit spin and twirling around on his ass for a couple of rotations. Bard tried not to laugh at Thranduil’s, put out expression, he really really did.

“Whatever, I know I can still jump better than you.” Thranduil retorted, pouting in an attempt to suppress his own laugh as he returned to the side of the rink.

Bard took the challenge and skated out and did a single axel jump, technically easy but relieved to land it nonetheless. Thranduil scoffed affectionately when he returned, skated out and executed a perfect double flip, Bard wondered if he’d been practicing before he came. Bard then slipped out of the landing of a double lutz, Thranduil touched down attempting a double axel, Bard staggered out of the landing of a triple toe loop, Thranduil landed on his ass attempting a triple loop and they were both wheezing and barely able to stand through their laughter.

The switched over to step sequences and both stumbled more than was really permissible and then back to spins where the both ended up skidding around on the ice and all but pulling out all the muscles in their legs trying to bend that way.

“That’s it! We should both try to land our signature jump and whoever manages it wins.” Thranduil announced and Bard looked at him like he was _insane_ which he clearly _was_. They’d been slipping out of triples and landed on their asses and Thranduil wanted them to attempt a quad flip and quad loop respectively. He was in love with a madman.

“Thran, neither of us will land a jump like that.”

“They were our signatures. We _must_ be able to land at them.”

“Just because they were our signature jumps doesn’t mean we’re going to be able to land them fifteen years later. You just tripped up on a step sequence!” Bard was laughing, shaking his head at the ridiculous man beside him.

“I believe in us, we can’t possibly be _this_ bad. We wouldn’t even qualify for nationals!”

“And that surprises you? You’re forty Thran and I almost am too.”

“No, I refuse it. I will land my quad flip and you your quad loop.”

“I promise you we won’t.” Bard replied but he was grinning as Thranduil put his hands on Bard’s back and shoved him out into the centre of the rink. “I’ll break my neck.”

“No you won’t we’re skaters we know how to fall.”

“Yeah, back when we were young and less lightly to shatter anything.”

“We won’t shatter anything.” Thranduil rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, except maybe our pride. And a few bones.” Bard grumbled, unable to believe he was actually about to attempt this, it was _such_ a bad idea.

He skated, picking up speed and clearly needn’t have worried at all as he couldn’t get close to the hight or speed needed for a quad and ended up landing a triple incredibly awkwardly but catching himself before he smashed his face into the ice.

They were both laughing as he dusted himself off and wobbled back over to Thranduil.

“Pitiful.” Thranduil teased, pushing off and skating round and round, picking up speed.

This really was an awful idea, they hadn’t even landed all their doubles. Thranduil pushed off with a steely determination to land his quad only to not nearly get high enough or fast enough either, but came down much more awkwardly than Bard, crumpling down onto the ice.

 _Shit_.

Bard rushed over to him, worried he had really hurt himself this time. _Idiot trying to land that jump at this age_. His shoulders were shaking and Bard worried he was crying, he’d seen Thranduil fall before but never cry from the pain of it.

“Thran, Thran are you okay?” Bard asked frantically, carefully touching Thranduil to try and soothe him, only for Thranduil to roll over onto his back and make it clear he was laughing, _hard_. He was gasping for air, his whole body shaking, head thrown back and laughing with his whole body.

“Oh my god Bard we are _awful_.” Thranduil’s eyes were watering though Bard suspected it was by some miracle from his laughter not his landing.

“God we really are aren’t we.” Bard agreed, falling down on the ice beside him. “I slipped out of a _basic_ step sequence.”

“I landed on my ass attempting a single Salchow. A _Salchow_.”

“I do hope your ass is okay.” Bard teased.

“Says the man who I’m surprised didn’t break his coccyx when you fell out of that flying shotgun spin.”

“Yeah that’s definitely going to bruise.” Bard admitted rolling over to face Thranduil on the ice.

“Well at least we know now once and for all, that I really am the best.”

“What!”

“I landed the double flip.”

“Yeah and you completely flubbed the single salchow.”

“Yes well you tripped over your own feet at one point.”

“At least I sort of landed the triple toe loop.”

“Oh barely!” Thranduil scoffed. “I managed the sit spin with my arm up.”

“You fell out of that one!” Bard argued back through both their laughter, leaning up on one arm and looking down at Thranduil.

“Let’s make a pact never to tell anyone of what happened here today.” Thranduil said as solemnly as he could through his grin.

“Agreed.” Bard laughed, ducking in to kiss Thranduil before he could really think about what he was doing.

He wasn’t sure which of them was more surprised when his lips connected with Thranduil’s, but Thranduil was clinging onto him and kissing him back fiercely before Bard could second-guess his own instincts.

They made out on the ice until they were both shivering from the cold.

 

Legolas snickered to himself as he uploaded the video of his father and Bard failing just about every jump, spin and step sequence they tried before finally making out, titling it _How The Mighty Have Fallen (And Just Keep Falling)_. They were both going to kill, him, he should probably board a plane back to France before they found out.

By the morning, it had a terrifying number of views, had been shared on every social media site, featured on three morning news programmes and Legolas was running for his life.

 (Art by Iza - scroll right or you might miss the whole image! <3 )  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoy it. Comments mean the world to me, but in a bang it is much easier for we writers to get lovely messages than the artists, as the comment box for me is right there; so please consider dropping [Ju](http://miryokae.tumblr.com/) and [Iza](http://piyo-13.tumblr.com//) a message on their tumblrs as I know it would mean the world to them too and their art has been so wonderfu for this fic <3
> 
> thank you again!


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